A Mercenary’s Rebirth Among Nobles

Fortunately, Hugo’s awkward situation did not last long.

“Young lady.”

From behind Hugo and Felicia, a presence made itself known along with a deep, heavy voice.

When they turned around, both of them saw a middle-aged knight who evoked the solidity of steel.

It was an unfamiliar face, so Hugo blinked and whispered to Felicia.

“Who is he?”

“It’s sir Dirk, someone I had dealings with when I was a child. Have you heard the name Dirk Blucher?”

“Oh.”

Upon hearing that familiar name, Hugo’s eyes widened.

Dirk Blucher.

The knight closest to Marquis Bernhardt, famous for being an impeccable example among knights.

It was said that he had no flaws in swordsmanship, character, strategy, or tactics.

But at the same time, he was also known as the eternal second among the knights of the Empire.

After all, in the ducal house of Valdeck there existed none other than the Swordmaster Eisen Brightner.

‘The knight of the shadow, Dirk Blucher.’

That was how many people called him, with a mixture of pity and mockery.

If Eisen had not existed, he would have been the most renowned knight of his era.

But he ended up eclipsed by the shadow of the Swordmaster, a man who, no matter how hard he tried, would never leave his name in history.

And now it turned out that this knight had a connection with Felicia.

Hugo felt a bitter irony in the situation.

‘How ridiculous. He lived his entire life under sir Eisen’s shadow, and now it seems he’s destined to die hidden under the shadow of his disciple, lady Felicia.’

If the position of Swordmaster had become vacant, perhaps he would have had one last chance to stand out.

But scarcely had Eisen’s funeral ended when the title passed directly to Felicia.

For Dirk, it wasn’t just that the owner of the shadow had changed; his destiny remained the same, to live and die within it.

Hugo looked at him with a hint of compassion, but Dirk did not react at all.

He understood perfectly the meaning of that look, and even so, he ignored it completely, merely inclining his head slightly.

“It has been a long time, young lady. You have grown admirably.”

“Thank you. You also look well, sir Dirk.”

“Since my youth, my only virtue has been good health. I suppose the Eight Gods still wish to keep this old man in the world.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I was worried that age might have taken its toll on you.”

“That it be a joy…”

Felicia smiled as she said it, but a bitter expression appeared on Dirk’s face, as if living longer were a curse rather than a blessing.

After observing her in silence for a few seconds, Dirk sighed and spoke.

“Young lady.”

“Yes, sir Dirk.”

“Could you return to your lodging right now?”

“…”

Although the request was sudden, Felicia did not ask the reason.

She simply looked at him with calm eyes.

Dirk remained silent, but under that persistent gaze he had no choice but to continue.

“The third young master is on his way.”

“…He’s coming to see me?”

“Yes.”

“Hah.”

A cold smile formed on Felicia’s lips.

She did not even ask why the third son of the house Roglan was heading to the stables. She acted as if she already knew the answer.

“Perfect.”

“…”

“Let him do whatever he wants.”

“Young lady.”

“It’s always been like this, hasn’t it?”

Hugo, who was listening from the side, gave a slight jolt.

The earlier warmth had vanished; Felicia’s voice was now laden with sarcasm and restrained fury.

Staring straight at Dirk, she continued.

“Sir Dirk.”

“…Yes, young lady.”

“I am grateful to you. When the marquis threw me into the stables, you were the only one who insisted on praising my talent and saying that I should learn swordsmanship.”

“As a knight, it was the right thing to do.”

“But it stayed only as words. It was always just words.”

Dirk, who had his head lowered, went rigid at Felicia’s cold tone.

She gave him no time to react and continued speaking.

“You never taught me swordsmanship, nor did you stop the abuse. Perhaps you felt pity for me, perhaps compassion, but I never received any real help.”

“That is—”

“I know. The marquis is your lord, and obeying your lord is loyalty for a knight. You are, without a doubt, a model knight. However.”

Felicia looked him straight in the eyes, which were trembling.

“I owe you nothing.”

“…”

“If I feel gratitude toward you, it is only because I could sense a little human warmth. Nothing more than a personal impression.”

If one receives a favor, it is right to repay it.

But Dirk’s actions were so minimal that they could barely be considered a debt.

Even if they were taken as such, the price to be paid would be insignificant.

“You have no right to stop me. Withdraw.”

At that sharp rebuke, Dirk closed his eyes tightly.

What he felt was neither shame nor anger, but regret and remorse.

After a few moments, he spoke in a strained voice.

“Even so… what will you do if I try to stop you?”

Felicia smiled coldly, as if she had been expecting that question, and answered at once.

“Before entering these lands, His Majesty told me something. To act as my heart desired.”

“…”

“I trust you understand what that means.”

How could he not understand?

Everything that happened from now on had Lucian’s approval.

In other words, not only Felicia, but also her lord, had no intention of taking a single step back.

Provoking a greater conflict to force the other side to yield would not work this time.

If they tried to restrain her vengeance halfway, all they would accomplish would be unleashing a bloodbath upon the house Roglan.

The most sensible course was to let Felicia vent as much as she wished and deal with the consequences afterward.

“…I have been a fool.”

Dirk let that confession slip out without realizing it.

No matter how much personal compassion he felt, disobeying his lord’s will was betrayal.

That was what he had believed all his life, following chivalry steadfastly.

And what was the reality?

He had ended up being a mere spectator for someone he had wanted to help.

His words of persuasion carried no weight at all.

And now, he could not even interpose himself knightly in her path, condemned to continue watching from the sidelines.

‘If only back then I had acted according to what I believed was right, even disobeying my lord…’

When he reached that thought, a bitter smile formed on his lips.

It was already too late for regrets.

Better to think about how to handle what was to come.

With that in mind, Dirk was about to withdraw after taking his leave, when a voice laden with mockery echoed through the air.

“The seed of a whore has returned to her workplace. Such a cozy place, don’t you think?”

***

Hugo looked, with a stunned expression, toward the direction from which the voice had come.

There stood a young noble with the corner of his lips twisted unpleasantly, accompanied by two knight escorts.

The aristocrat lazily tapped one of the stable’s pillars with the elegant cane he held in his hand as he spoke.

“People tend to grow attached to the place where they belong. It seems that for you, that place was always the stables. After all, there was no one who took better care of the horses than you.”

“…”

“Feel proud. You are the best stable keeper. I myself acknowledge that you were born solely to tend horses.”

“Damn lunatic.”

The insult slipped from Hugo’s mouth before he could restrain it.

At that direct rudeness, the young noble frowned.

“And who are you?”

“Who is this idiot?”

Hugo ignored the aristocrat’s question and asked Felicia instead.

That attitude, as if he did not deserve an answer, made the noble flare up in anger.

“How dare you!”

“It’s Gaemon, the third son of Marquis Roglan. Some time ago he approached me under the excuse of playing at duels, wielding a wooden sword, and ended up being defeated in a rather embarrassing manner.”

However, no one paid any attention to the aristocrat’s words, to Gaemon.

Just like Hugo, Felicia responded as if he were not there.

Hugo frowned, intrigued by what he had just heard.

“Game of duels? But you said you never learned swordsmanship here, lady Felicia.”

“They called it a game, but in reality he tried to strike me. In the end, he was the one who ended up beaten and on the ground.”

“Was that the first time you ever held a sword?”

“Yes. I remember it felt strangely natural in my hands.”

“Then that guy, after training in swordsmanship with a master, lost against you, who was holding a sword for the first time…”

In Hugo’s gaze, directed at Gaemon, an obvious contempt was reflected.

At a glance, Gaemon was older than Felicia.

When one is a child, even a single year of difference can mean an enormous physical advantage.

And yet, with that overwhelming advantage, he had tried to abuse a younger girl and ended up knocked down by her.

Leaving Felicia’s talent aside, it was simply repugnant.

“I thought he was just an idiot, but it turns out he’s absolute trash.”

“Shut your mouth! How dare a mere knight speak like that?”

“And do you know who I am? I am Hugo Maien.”

“Hugo Maien…”

Gaemon frowned. No matter how much he thought about it, the name rang no bells.

As he kept pondering it, one of the escorts leaned in and whispered to him.

“He’s the duke’s most trusted man. He comes from the underworld; he was knighted by the duke himself.”

“What? A back-alley thug?”

Gaemon let out a mocking laugh upon hearing the explanation.

What was someone of that origin relying on so much to behave like this?

As if he had read his thoughts, Hugo smiled ironically and said.

“I can imagine what you’re thinking, but regardless of my origin, I am the one closest to His Majesty the King.”

“And what of it?”

“That if you touch me, a war could break out right here.”

Upon hearing the word war, Gaemon shuddered for an instant.

But it was only a moment; he soon smiled complacently and shrugged.

“Don’t worry. I have no intention of touching you.”

“…?”

“Even a filthy gang from the alleyways is still a guest if it’s here. Even if you’re a miserable wretch who only knows how to spit vulgar words, I shouldn’t lay a hand on you.”

Hugo frowned.

The constant insults were already annoying, but more than that, Gaemon’s confident attitude gave him a strange sense of déjà vu.

As he searched his memory to identify that feeling, Felicia stepped forward and spoke.

“Gaemon Roglan. You have not only insulted me, you have also insulted my companion and, more than that, you have belittled the authority of my lord.”

“And?”

“I, Felicia Brightner, challenge you to a duel. If you know honor, take your sword and stand before me.”

She called it a duel, but in reality it was nothing more than a declaration of execution.

With Gaemon’s skill, he would not be able to block even a single blow before losing his head.

Even so, Gaemon did not even blink and curved his lips into a smile.

“I don’t want to.”

“…!”

“I refuse the duel. And now what? Are you going to kill me? You wouldn’t start a war here, would you? Even if you’re of low birth, you can’t be that stupid.”

With a relaxed smile, Gaemon shrugged again.

Only then did Hugo understand the origin of that sense of déjà vu.

Cornering the opponent politically and acting at one’s pleasure.

It was a method Lucian used frequently.

However, Hugo had to restrain the laughter that threatened to escape.

Gaemon’s approach had one fundamental difference from Lucian’s.

“No, I won’t kill you.”

Gaemon had no plan for when the situation collapsed on him.

“What’s going to happen now is unilateral punishment.”